


Convalescence

by allisondraste



Series: Roses and Thorns [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisondraste/pseuds/allisondraste
Summary: It has been four months since the Blight ended, and four months since Alistair and Lucia have seen each other.  Relationships are hard, especially when there is no certainty that one still exists.  (Sequel to "Let Me Go")Music inspiration for this piece:Ashes and Wine: https://youtu.be/gj8COjwOrUIBreathe Again: https://youtu.be/v2yPU5WPwZsHigher Window: https://youtu.be/-FPA8DHdia8





	1. Worst Person In the World

**Author's Note:**

> This work is all planned out and mostly written, but it was a bit too much for a one-shot, so updates should be swift!

The darkspawn had all but vanished from the Fereldan countryside, their retreat harkened by the defeat of the archdemon months earlier.  Only straggler bands remained, cropping up on the roads from time to time, terrifying travelers. Even in smaller groups than the massive horde that had swarmed to the surface during the Blight, they were ruthless and deadly.  That did not even account for the pale eyes, skin that looked as if it were too loose, and the breath that would put a mabari to shame. Alistair observed the latter as he finished off the last of group of genlocks that had been plaguing one of the main roads leading into Denerim.  It laughed maliciously, baring a mouthful of pointed teeth, even as he sank his blade deep into its chest.  _ Disgusting _ . 

It wasn’t the most enjoyable job, but it was something to keep his hands - and more importantly, his mind - busy.  For a time, he had been able to focus on cleaning up the mess that had been Denerim in the aftermath of the battle.  However, the city had more or less returned to normal, and he was left with little to do except think about all the ways in which his life was worse since the Blight had ended.  Sure, he wasn’t out in the fray of things, risking his life on a daily basis, but without the distraction he felt restless and empty. Peace wasn’t as great as everyone made it out to be.

As he returned to Denerim, the comforting bustle of midday surrounded him.  There was a sense of contentment and comfort that he had only noticed in the past few weeks.  It seemed that peace was only disappointing to him, as the people of Denerim thrived in the absence of battle and hardship. Of course they did.  Only crazy people like him longed for conflict. It was all he knew, after all. Alistair laughed bitterly and headed toward the palace district. 

Queen Anora had so graciously allowed him to stay in the palace, even after he had made a fool of himself demanding that her father be executed.  Of course, that had not happened, and the former Teyrn was spending his days in the dungeons now. It was a fair compromise, and one that Alistair was grateful had happened after the fact.  Killing Loghain wouldn’t have brought back Duncan or the other wardens, no matter how much he blamed the man for their deaths. Lucia had been right, as she usually was. 

_ Lucia.  _ His chest tightened and ached at the thought of her.  He longed for the day he could think about her without that happening, if it were even possible. If it weren’t, well… then, he would just have to stop  _ thinking _ about her.  Simple. Right?

Prepared to descend into the dark places where he kept thoughts of their relationship, such as it was, Alistair reached the palace.  As he pushed through the heavy wooden doors, he was torn from his thoughts by a voice, shouting from across the large, open hall. He looked up to see a beautiful woman with long, red-blonde hair, braided loosely over her shoulder waving and walking in his direction.   _ Elissa Cousland _ . 

“Hey! You’re back,” she remarked cheerfully, her silvery voice echoing in his ears, “How fare the darkspawn?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old.  They were very upset that you never write them anymore.” He laughed and raised his eyebrows, a playful gesture. 

“Well, we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms, did we? What with the Blight and all.”  She crossed her arms and shifted her weight from one hip to the other, not that he was paying attention to her hips, or anything like that. 

“That’s what I tried to tell them, but they weren’t having it, so...I had to kill them,” he answered with a shrug, watching her large, brown eyes search his face for something, though he didn’t know what she hoped to find.  It certainly wouldn’t be the sadness he had hidden away behind the jokes. That was an expertise of his, honed over twenty-one years of pretending he wasn’t falling apart on the inside. Still, he mentally wished her luck. 

“Seriously, though, did it go smoothly,” she asked, when she was reasonably satisfied that he wasn’t hiding a frown somewhere. “Are you all right?” Her voice was heavy with concern, and she began to scan his body for injuries.  It was more flattering than it was uncomfortable, though he still wished she would stop. 

“Pfft, a few darkspawn hurt me?” He tilted his head upward and crossed his arms in feigned offense. “Never.” 

“Oh really?” A sharp pain burned in his forearm as she tugged at it. “Then what is this?”  He looked down to see an large gash across his arm. There was only a trickle of blood, however, it seemed that the genlock had used a blade coated with poison, as there were green burns around the wound’s edges.  Fabric clung to the wound, effectively stopping most of the bleeding. Damn, that was going to hurt later. How had he not noticed that one? 

“Oh that?  Just a scratch,” he laughed it off, pretending it didn’t bother him that he hadn’t even been able to keep his thoughts straight long enough to look down at his own arm.   Duncan would have scolded him.  _ Lucia _ would have scolded him.  Part of him hoped that Elissa would scold him too. 

“You’ll think ‘just a scratch’ when that poison rots half your arm off,” she lectured, almost as if on cue.  “We need to get you to the nurse.” 

“If you insist,” he answered, as she all but dragged him down the hall toward the castle’s infirmary.  She was stronger than he would have guessed. 

Elissa, or “Liss” as she insisted he call her, had been staying in the palace for nearly as long as he had.  As the youngest of the Cousland children, she had taken it upon herself to work in Denerim to repair the political damage dealt by Howe and Loghain, while her brother served as Teyrn of Highever.  She was warm, witty, and smarter than him - everything he would have expected a Fereldan noblewoman to be without the sharp edges and annoying formality. She and Alistair had developed a friendship in the few months that she had been in the city.  She listened to him and made him laugh at a time when he strongly considered throwing himself into the nearest lake on a daily basis. Her company was comforting, and at moments she made him forget that his world had fallen apart. 

Cringing as pieces of the shirt that had served as an unwanted bandage were cut and peeled away, Alistair hissed a handful of curses that apparently offended the Andrastian nurse, causing her to work more roughly.  Liss stood beside him, her hand resting casually on his shoulder, an attempt to comfort him that would have worked better if she were not also stifling laughter that was undoubtedly in response to the swearing. He didn’t even use the worst one’s he knew.  Those were for special occasions. 

“So Liss, you’re from Highever,” he spoke while the nurse continued to work, crushing the ingredients of an antidote into one of those bowls apothecaries used.  The name escaped him at the moment, but he remembered watching Lucia use one. He would ask her questions about the ingredients, and she would explain. She always hated when he said it,  but she would have been a wonderful mentor had she stayed at the Circle. He shook his head, remembering he had started a conversation and that he needed to listen. 

“What gave it away: The last name or the fact that my brother is the Teyrn?” 

“You know what I mean.” A grunt escaped him when the dark green antidote touched his open wound.

“Yes, I happen to be quite familiar with Highever,” she stated proudly, “What of it?” 

“I’ve just been meaning to go for a while now,” Alistair explained, relief washing over him when the nurse began to bandage the wound.  It was almost over. “My friend Duncan was from there. He died in the battle at Ostagar, and I want to make a trip to honor him.

“I remember Duncan.  He visited from time to time looking for recruits,” Liss explained, a wistful sound to her voice, “I begged to leave with him the last time he came by, but Papa wouldn’t have it.”

“Probably for the best.” He offered her an apologetic smile before looking down at his feet.

“Probably so.”

There was a long and heavy pause in the conversation, made only slightly less uncomfortable by the sound of the nurse’s humming.  She tied the bandage so tightly that Alistair’s heartbeat throbbed underneath it.

“There you go, young man,” the nurse announced suddenly, and Alistair jumped slightly, “That should do the trick.  Try not to move it around too much until the antidote dries.”

He nodded and stood, thanking her for her time, to which she replied with a good-natured smile before walking away to tend to a guard who entered with a broken arm.   Liss moved to examine the wrappings as if she did not trust the nurse’s work, but she did not appear to find fault with them. 

“You’ll also want to keep it clean,” she asserted, her gaze soft under serious eyebrows, “You wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

“I know how to tend a wound,  _ thank you very much _ ,” he snapped, uncomfortable with her concern for him.  Although, he figured she would assume he was annoyed. 

“I just-,” she began, but threw her hands up in frustration, “Nevermind.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, making sure to smile and meet her gaze to show he was sincere, “ I know you’re just worried about me… I appreciate it. Really.”  He bent over to pick up his glove and leather bracer the nurse had removed as she treated him. He examined the corroded cut in the leather and sighed.  They were his favorite pair, but he would hate to see what his arm would have looked like had he not worn them. 

Alistair and Liss exited the infirmary and walked down the hallway in less-than-comfortable silence.  He had learned from experience that sometimes silence was better than trying to force words, especially when those words made him look like and idiot, an arse, or both.  

Liss surprised him by speaking first.  That never happened to him. 

“You know, I could got to Highever with you… if you wanted.” She looked down at the ground, a self-conscious gesture he had yet to see from the typically confident woman, “I haven’t seen Fergus in a while. It'd be nice to see him and make sure he's holding up alright.” 

He froze, flashes of a conversation with Lucia just days after Ostagar.  She barely knew him at the time, but offered to make the trip to Highever with him anyway.  Duncan had been important to her, too. It felt wrong to go without her, let alone to take someone else instead.  Then again, Lucia wasn’t there, was she? She had been gone for almost four months, and she hadn’t even written. Not once.  He didn’t know if she was safe or even alive, at this point. Considering the way she left, he didn’t even know if she still cared about him.   It wasn’t her fault that she had literal demons to deal with, but that didn’t ease the pain. It was a strange mix of heartache and anger that made his chest collapse in on itself.   He loved her more than he ever thought it was possible to love another person, but he wasn’t sure that he could continue to hold out hope that she would come back to him. It would hurt so much less if he could move on.

“You okay, Ali?”  Liss’ soft voice broke though his daze. He blinked his eyes a few times, focusing his vision, and hummed in response.  “You’ve been staring off into the distance and scowling for a while now. Far past the minute I usually allow you when I ask you a question.” 

“Very funny,” he quipped and pushed her away playfully in an attempt to recover the shield of humor he liked to hide behind, only to decide that deflection was a lost cause at this point, ”But, uh, yes.  I’m fine. I was just...well, I was -.” He broke off, not sure what to say next. 

“What is it?” Her eyebrows pressed together in concern and she touched his shoulders gently.  “Is something wrong?”

“Have I told you about Lucia?”  He laughed nervously and tried to look anywhere but her eyes. “I don’t think I have.”  He knew he hadn’t. Not talking about her was an active decision on his part. 

“Lucia, the Hero of Ferelden? That Lucia?” Liss seemed offended that he assumed she did not know who the Hero of Ferelden was, but that wasn’t what he meant. 

“Yes, uh, that would be be the one.”  He paused, gathering his thoughts. “She and I, well, we had planned to go to Highever together a long time ago, but obviously she’s not here now.”

“Where is she?” 

“ _ Amaranthine _ .”

“Ah.” The bitterness must have stuck to his words because Liss’ tone changed. “I don’t have to go if it upsets you.  I just thought I would offer.” 

“I- no.  You should come,” he answered, words leaving his lips before he had time to think about them.  Still, he didn’t want to go alone, and he refused to let guilt dictate his decision. 

“I don’t want to spoil your trip,” Liss answered in a mix of concern and excitement. 

“You?  Spoil something? Never,” he insisted, “Please come.  I could use the company.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”  Her caution was probably warranted considering his erratic behavior. 

“Of course,” he assured her, “Want to leave first thing in the morning?”

“Well,” she began, tapping a finger to her chin in thought, “That doesn’t leave me much time for my beauty sleep.”  A mischievous grin spread across her face, her eyes glittering with amusement. 

“Well, you don’t need it anyway.”   _ Sweet maker _ , what was wrong with him?  He scolded himself for his indiscreet tongue.  Perhaps he would have to cut it out, devote himself to Astyth the Grey.  That would be a first for the Silent Sisters. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at Liss.  Her eyes were wider than usual and she blushed. 

“I, uh, guess I will… see you in the morning, then.”  

“Yeah, I guess so.” He smiled politely, and then turned to head to his room, cursing himself with each step.  He looked back over his shoulder to see Liss still standing there, watching him walk away. She was lovely, and he was the worst person in the world. 


	2. It's Poetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a lot easier for Lucia to deal with the affairs of the wardens than to deal with the affairs of the heart. It takes a friend to help her care for herself.

The crisp morning air tingled against Lucia’s face as she stood atop the battlements overlooking the Keep, her Keep.  Unable to sleep, as was her custom more nights than not, she had wandered outside in only her light linen leggings and tunic, hoping that the biting Fereldan wind would numb her heart and quiet her mind as it numbed her nose and fingertips.  It was a foolish notion, but one that gave her some measure of comfort more than tossing and turning in a bed that was too large for one person. Lucia liked the cold, anyway. It reminded her of her travels, the Frostback Mountains, and campfires with songs and stories over them.  It was the most at home she could feel at Vigil’s Keep. 

Warden-Commander Amell. Hero of Ferelden Amell. She still shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her titles and the responsibility that they placed upon her.  The Keep had formerly belonged to the traitorous Rendon Howe and his family, but was seized and gifted to the Grey Wardens to honor their sacrifices for the Fereldan people.  It was a place to rebuild their presence and heal from the Blight that had nearly destroyed them. Since Lucia’s arrival multiple wardens had been successfully joined and those loyal to the wardens’ cause had volunteered their time and funds to insure that the fortress was nearly impenetrable .  And it was. The Keep withstood a siege of sentient darkspawn and allowed Lucia and her fellow wardens to save the city of Amaranthine. Her Keep and her wardens were something of which she should be proud. Yet she felt nothing but guilt. 

Lucia had read the tales of Blights past, of noble heroes riding their griffon steeds to slay the Old Gods whose awakening caused the darkspawn to rise to the surface.  Five times in written history had this occurred, and in all but one instance, the Grey Warden who slayed the corrupted creature did so at the cost of their life. It was a hero’s sacrifice, one that Lucia did not make.  No, instead she had allowed two people she loved more than herself to make a sacrifice for her. Everybody lived, but at what cost? It seemed that everything had only worsened since she had slain the dragon. There were days, like this one, when she wondered if the world would have been better off if she had died in the typical Blight Hero fashion. 

Then she thought of Alistair.  They had fought tirelessly under this same sky to gain the allegiance of the Dwarves, Dalish, and Circle of Magi.  Together they won the support of the landsmeet, the favor of the queen, and ended a Blight before it really even started.  Just the two of them alone had accomplished what it had taken armies and over a decade to do during the Fourth Blight. They had come to love one another during that hardship, an unwise decision, but one she could not bring herself to regret.  Alistair would have never let her make the sacrifice. At least this way, with Morrigan’s ritual, he had been allowed to live. 

Lucia leaned forward against the parapet, elbows resting on the cold, rough stone.  She twirled the shriveled remains of a white rose between her thumb and index finger, and allowed herself a bitter, tearful laugh.  There were more wardens now than there ever had been since her joining, more people who would risk life and limb for her and her cause, yet she had never felt more alone than she did in this moment.  No matter how many bands of talking darkspawn into which she flung herself, nor how many duties she carried, she could not shake the memory of the last conversation she had with him. 

She had been in a bad place, they both had.  She knew that they needed time and distance from the pain to heal, and freedom to work through an enormous grief in their own ways.  At the time, she had not been certain there was a future to be had with him. It was difficult to see past the demons in her head with whispers of an escape from the suffering and promises of contentedness.  Whispers and promises that sounded more like screams to her desperate heart. 

Without a doubt, her choice to leave had been for the best.  However, the manner in which she left and the choice to not write him, not even once, were not.  She didn’t know how she expected him to react when he found her attempting to sneak away without a goodbye.  She didn’t know why she didn’t tell him she loved him before she left nor why she could not seem to remember how to write every time she picked up a quill and parchment.  What was she to say for herself anyway? That she was sorry for ripping his heart out, stomping on it, and running away because she was scared of what she had done? Knowing Alistair, though, he would have simply appreciated notice that she was alive.  

Hearing footsteps behind her, she wiped away a rogue tear that escaped down her cheek.  She turned to see a dark-haired man approaching her carrying a heavy woolen blanket. She furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering what Nathaniel could possibly want this early in the morning.

“Some of the guards saw you leave your quarters in the middle of the night, and were worried when you didn’t return.  I figured I might find you up here, attempting to freeze to death,” he remarked dryly as he draped the blanket around her shoulders.  “If you want to die, I can think of a hundred more noteworthy ways to go.” 

“I’m not trying to freeze to death,” she retorted defensively, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

“Troubled?”  Nathaniel’s tone changed, suggesting that he understood now was not a great time for banter.  He joined her in resting his elbows on the parapet. 

“I’m fine.  Just… restless.” She looked straight ahead, not really focusing on anything in particular. It was a vain attempt to avoid his gaze.   
  
“You know, you’re an excellent commander, but a piss poor liar.”  He offered her a knowing look and his eyes flicked to the mummified rose in her hand.  “What’s that?” He nodded toward the flower. 

“Its… my latest weapon of choice.”  She said, sarcasm enveloping her as a defensive barrier. 

“A withered rose?”  His expression was a mix of amusement and irritation. 

Lucia shrugged.  “It’s poetic.” 

“Right.”  Nathaniel rolled his eyes in a display of insubordination that would have offended her had he not actually been more friend than fellow warden. “Permission to speak... candidly?”

“Always.” 

“You think entirely too much.”

His remark caught her by surprise and she turned her head abruptly to look at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I have seen you thumbing that rose with a sour look on your face every day since I’ve been here.” He was observant, she would grant him that much.  Either that, or she had been indiscreet. “That is a lot of thinking and looking miserable without doing anything about it.” 

“It’s unwise to act without thinking things through,” she offered in her defense.  That was how she had always operated: consider all possible outcomes and make the best choice.  It was logical. 

“Maybe so,” the other warden conceded, “But it is stupid to waste so much time thinking about the possibilities that you lose something important to you because you were too stubborn to act.”

“I don’t know what to do, Nathaniel!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. 

“Well, what does your gut say?”

“My gut? But that’s not how I -”   
  
“What does it say,” he interrupted, pressing her to answer. 

“I need to go to Denerim, “ she stated definitively, surprised by her own certainty. 

“Then we are going to Denerim,” Nathaniel ordered as if he were her commander now. He probably should have been, if she were honest. “Come on.” 

“Now?” Panic seized her at the prospect of Denerim and Alistair. As much rumination as she had engaged in about what she could have or should have done, she was wholly unprepared to face him.  She had no idea if he would even want to see her. 

“Yes. Now.”  Nathaniel whirled around as he spoke, waving for her to follow. “I’m tired of you moping about.” 

True to his word Nathaniel insisted that they leave at that instant, allowing her a half hour or so to pack her things and collect her hounds as she refused to travel without them.  It was morning, and a perfect time to embark, or so he said. It was a full day’s travel to the capital, and it was safer in the daylight. She wanted to resent him for pushing her to make the journey, however, she could be nothing but grateful because she did not think she could bring herself to do it alone.  For all the things she had faced over the past few months, possible rejection from Alistair was the most daunting. What if he wasn’t even there? Would that be worse than him being there and not wanting to see her? She couldn’t be sure. 

As they reached the city, Nathaniel rode on inside, but Lucia stalled by the gates as the feeling of dread overwhelmed her.  Rune and Fang whimpered and growled at either side of her, causing the horse to stir anxiously. Mabari were indeed too smart for their own good.  They knew that she was dragging her feet, and they knew that she was sad. She could no longer fool anybody into thinking she was okay. Not even the dogs. 

“I know, I know,” she whined, not sure why she should have to explain herself to them, “I’ll talk to him.  I just need to take my time.” Both hounds barked cheerfully, satisfied with her promise.

“Hurry up,” Nathaniel shouted from ahead of her, clearly not as satisfied by her words “I can hear you thinking back there.”

She groaned and urged her horse forward into the expanse of Denerim’s market district.  It looked so much different than the last time she had seen it, although admittedly it had been immediately following the battle.  Everything was burning and Darkspawn corpses littered the ground at every turn. It had taken days for the smell of carrion and smoke to leave her nostrils.  

Now, the district was teeming with the life she had always known it to have.  Children played in the streets and gasped in amazement as the wardens rode by.  Judging from the whispers of “That’s her!” and “The Hero of Ferelden is here!” she knew that there would be little hope of reaching the castle before word did. 

As she expected, news of the wardens’ arrival reached the castle ahead of them, as Queen Anora sent servants out to greet them.  Stable workers took their horses as they dismounted, another servant took the dogs, and a young woman, who couldn’t have been more than fifteen stood by the door, a pleasant smile on her face. 

“Her majesty is waiting for you in the throne room,” the girl said bowing her head.  

“Thank you,” Lucia said softly and Nathaniel nodded. 

The doors to the palace opened into an open vestibule that was attached to the main hall.  Lucia and Nathaniel moved swiftly across the room and through the heavy wooden doors ahead of them.  The hall was just as Lucia remembered it, only there were fewer people and less chatter. Sunlight filtered in through large windows near the ceiling and a contingent of guards stood by the throne.  Queen Anora sat, posture erect and very proper, at the far end of the room. She stood when she noticed the pair of Wardens and began to approach them, leaving her guards behind to grumble. 

“Warden-Commander,” she exclaimed, “This is a pleasant, if not unexpected surprise.”  She paused, her eyes darting toward Nathaniel, an amused expression spreading across her face. 

“It has been some time, your majesty,” Nathaniel said fondly. 

“Indeed it has, my friend.” Anora nodded and examined his armor, “You are a Grey Warden now?”

“Apparently,” he answered sarcastically, “I came home from Starkhaven to nothing but rumors of my father’s atrocities.  The commander saved me from the gallows. I owe her my life.”

“Don’t we all?”  Anora and Nathaniel shared a smile filled sorrow that only the children of the two most infamous traitors in the land could understand. Then, Anora turned her attention to Lucia again, “I presume you did not travel to the capital to exchange pleasantries.” 

“No.” She looked down, examining the grey stone floor beneath her, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.  It wasn’t, but she didn’t want to meet Anora’s piercing gaze. “I’m here to see Alistair.” 

“Alistair is not in Denerim at the moment,” Anora explained, her eyes expressing sympathy that crackled in her voice. 

“Oh.” There was no hiding the disappointment that overwhelmed Lucia. It was foolish of her to assume he would be there waiting for her when she arrived. Time had not frozen in her absence, and she should have known better than to get her hopes up.“Where is he?”

“He left for Highever yesterday morning.  It wasn’t to be a long trip, but he will not be returning for a few days,” Anora answered, quickly adding,“Of course, you and Nathaniel are welcome to stay in the palace in the meantime.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Nathaniel bowed his head in the first sign of reverence Lucia had seen from him thus far.  They must have known one another as children. There was a long-standing, mutual respect in the air between them that was wonderful to see. 

The queen ordered for servants to show the two to their rooms, and Lucia just sighed solemnly. The anxiety of the moment lingered unresolved and buzzing about in her head.Several days of waiting was going to feel like a lifetime.  

“Are you all right,” Nathaniel asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and drawing her to the present. 

“No.” She shook her head, releasing tears that clung to her lashes. “No I’m not”. It was the first time she had been truly honest with herself since she left.

Nathaniel gave her a few pats on the shoulder, his typical demonstration of support and sympathy.  In the midst of her emotions Lucia turned and embraced him tightly, both arms around his waist, and sobbed into his chest.  He tensed, shocked by the abrupt contact, but eased and returned the hug. She would later demand that he never tell another soul about this moment, but for now she needed comfort and he was a friend. 


	3. A Very Nice Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to Highever is paved with kind words and regrets.

It was more than a day’s journey from Denerim to Highever, just long enough that riding straight through would have been uncomfortable.  In the midst of a Fereldan winter, it would have been nearly unbearable. The campfire burned brightly before Alistair, providing little relief from the cold night air.  It was better than nothing, but it also stirred a sense of bittersweet nostalgia that he wished would disappear. In front of him, Elissa stood as close to the fire as was safe, hands extended toward the warmth of the flames. 

“You know,” he teased, “If you stand any closer to the fire, you’ll roast yourself.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad right now,” Elissa said with an audible shiver, her speech punctuated by chattering teeth. “I’d sit inside of it if it weren’t, you know, for the burning flesh.” She rubbed her hands together furiously, another vain attempt to warm them. 

“I take it you’re not used to sleeping out in the elements?”  

Liss shot her head around and snapped, “Of course I am!  What do you take me for? Orlesian?” She stared at him with a ferocity he had yet to see from her.  It reminded him of… well, it just was familiar. 

“My apologies, Lady Cousland.” He threw his hands up defensively, unable to keep his tone completely sincere, no matter how hard he tried. “I just assumed you would have had better traveling accommodations.  That’s all.” 

Liss scoffed. “Bryce Cousland wouldn’t have his children being soft and spoiled. ‘You’re Fereldan! Fereldans are hardy!’ He always said things like that.”  

She paused, looking into the fire, and smiled at a memory before walking away from the flames to sit beside Alistair. “It doesn’t mean I have to like the cold.” 

“Your father sounds like a good man,” Alistair remarked after a few moments of somber silence. He didn’t know what else to say to her. 

“He was the best,” she answered, smiling brightly, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. He didn’t know if he had made it worse or better.  “I’ll never forgive that traitorous bastard Howe for what he did to my family.”

“I’m...so sorry.” He was, again, at a loss for words.  Funny, seeing as he could not typically stop words from happening.  He usually had an excess of them.

“Anora told me that you killed him,” she stated, though it sounded more like a question, “She said that he had taken her prisoner, and that you had to kill him to rescue her.” 

“I did,” he reassured her, but realized it wasn’t completely true,”Well… we did.”

“Good,” she asserted, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder.  She was warm despite her shivers and chattering teeth. Heat rose to Alistair’s face and it was hard to find air, though he was sure there was more than enough of it.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. Whether or not it comforted her, he didn’t know, but to him it felt natural - easy even - and that was not comforting to him at all.  No, in fact it was the least comforting thing that could have happened. Still, he did not move away from her. He couldn’t. 

“I guess, well, I know what it’s like losing everything.” Ah, there were the words. “Duncan, the other wardens...They were the only family I knew.”   

“And then you had to save the world on top of it all,” she sighed, “I at least had time to grieve.”  

“Oh, I don’t know about saving the world,” he laughed away her praise, then paused.  He really didn’t deserve the the credit for that, after all. “I was useless at the start.  I don’t think I could have done any of it without Lucia.” 

“You aren’t giving yourself enough c-credit.”  Liss shuddered against him, struggling to speak through the cold. 

“Maker’s Breath, Liss! You’re still shaking.” 

“I’m still cold,” she muttered into his shoulder, “And now I’m sad, too.” 

Alistair pulled away from her to remove the heavy blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders.  He draped it atop the other blanket under which she was already huddled. He doubted it would do much more to knock the cold, but he would not have it be said that he let her freeze while he had a blanket to spare.  He liked the cold anyway. 

“I know,” he said, leaning forward and turning his gaze to the fire before looking back to Liss, “Me too.” 

Her eyes met his, sparkling from tears and firelight, and she was prettier than she had ever looked before.  Sharing real, raw emotions had that effect on him, it seemed. This was not the best time for him to figure that out, but there it was.  He watched as she leaned in closer, knowing that she was going to kiss him. The back of his mind was screaming at him to stop her, to tell her it wasn’t a good idea.  For her to think that he was ready to pursue whatever this was between them was cruel. She deserved better than that, than him. 

But Alistair didn’t stop her.

Liss’ lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss as her cold fingertips traced his cheek.  Gentle and warm, just as she was, it lingered momentarily before she pulled away and looked at him, as if to ask if the gesture was welcome.  Alistair blinked a few times, considering what to do. He honestly didn’t know, and the ability to form meaningful thoughts, or even just thoughts in general, had long since left him.  The kiss was different, but wonderful. His stomach fluttered and his heart pounded against his chest. 

“What’s wrong,” Liss asked, her voice as soft as her lips, “Are you o-,”

Not allowing her to finish her question, he answered with a kiss of his own, more urgent than the first.  This time it was he who held her face in his hands. Everything about this woman drew him to her, and her touch was everything he needed in his despair.  She wasn’t Lucia, and this wasn’t fair to anyone- not Elissa, not Lucia, and not himself. Yet, in the moment, intoxicated by her smell and the taste of her lips, Alistair couldn’t bring himself to care.  He was so tired of caring. 

He awoke the next morning in a groggy daze, a warm pressure at his side.  Blinking his eyes open, he saw a mass of red-blonde hair at his shoulder and a delicate hand lay on his chest.  His heart sank and nausea tugged at his stomach as the realization of what had happened the night before hit him. 

They had done nothing more than kiss and fall asleep holding one another. That was all that happened: brief, surface-level intimacy that was the result of a shared need for comfort. Of course, nothing he told himself provided any consolation. The uneasiness in his stomach continued to grow and it became more and more difficult to breathe. 

Alistair sat up gently, hoping not to wake Liss just yet.  Raking fingers through his hair, he wiped away some of the sweat that beaded at his temples.  How could he possibly be sweating in this weather? Oh, right it was one of the things that happened when he was nervous or sick. At the moment, both seemed to be true.  

He cursed himself often lately, but this time he deserved it more than ever.  He wished that Wynne or Leliana were around to curse him properly. Not only had he allowed Elissa’s advances, he had returned them in full force.  It didn’t matter that he was sad and lonely and heartbroken. Using her as a way to fill the emptiness Lucia left in him was inexcusable. He hated himself for giving this perfectly lovely woman the wrong idea.  She deserved more than to be a bandage for someone whose heart already belonged to someone else. 

He stood and began packing up the few things he could, something to distract himself until Liss awoke, not that her being awake would help matters.  As he readied their horses, she stirred behind him, stretching and yawning. He pretended he didn’t hear her. 

He couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel her embrace him from behind, however, long muscular arms sliding under his. Her hands clasped over his abdomen and she lay her cheek against his back.  Alistair tensed before he could stop it, his back becoming rigid. He wished that he had been this uncomfortable the night before. 

“Oh, sorry,” Liss said, her voice raspy from sleep, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Alistair heaved a shaky sigh and turned to face her.  Maker, she was beautiful, her wind-reddened cheeks and slightly unkempt hair only accentuating the fact.  Try as he may to picture her as a slobbering hurlock, he couldn’t. He just ended up with a picture in his head of all hurlocks looking like her. He’d have nightmares about this later, he was sure. 

“Oh.” The smile dropped from her face and she took a step back from him. “Then what’s wrong? Is this about the kiss? I knew it was a stupid idea. I’m such an idiot.”

“Yes - well, no… um-“ Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose, “What I mean to say is that yes it is about the kiss, but no you’re not an idiot.”

“Was it bad?” 

“Maker, no. No! It was very nice,” he answered, “But it shouldn’t have happened.”

“I knew I should have asked first.” She brought her hand to her face in frustration. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, but thought better of it, letting his hand fall to his side. “I knew it was a bad idea, and I should have stopped you.”

“Why?” She was hurt and trying to brush it off, her words sharper than usual. “It was just a kiss.” 

“No it wasn’t,” he snapped, dropping his head, “You and I both know it meant something.” 

“Okay, so what of it. What’s so wrong with it meaning something?”

“Under ordinary circumstances, nothing at all, but it’s just… there’s this thing.” Alistair looked up to meet her gaze. 

“A thing?” She eyed him knowingly. “Or a  _ person _ ?”

“Both,” he answered quickly, “It’s a long story.”

“Well, we have a few days left on this trip.” She smiled politely, barely holding back the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. “I think I have time to hear it.  Unless, of course, you’d rather we continue on in awkward silence.”

Alistair nodded and Liss moved to help him pack up the rest of their camp.  The two did continue on in awkward silence for the remainder of the way to Highever.  They agreed that it would be best for each of them to attend to their business in the city, and then discuss the matter on the trip home.  Liss visited her brother at the castle, while Alistair paid his respects. He erected a small grave marker under a tree just outside the walls of the city.  He had nothing to bury, but a small, standard issue warden amulet. It was less than Duncan deserved, but he probably wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. 

They set out to return to Denerim the next morning, both in slightly better spirits since their time in Highever, and prepared to talk about everything.  

“I know I’ve talked to you about Lucia before,” Alistair began, “But I haven’t exactly been honest with you about my relationship with her.  I can’t even say I’ve been honest with myself. You see, she’s not just a fellow warden.” He looked over at Liss, who, to his surprise, was smiling. 

“I knew that,” she stated with a chuckle, “You loved her.”

“I still do.” A wave of relief washed over him as he finally said the words aloud. “I’ve been so angry with her for leaving that I wasn’t sure anymore.  I like you so much. I really do... but when you and I kissed, I felt like I was betraying her. I don’t suppose you feel that way over someone you don’t love.”

“I don’t suppose you do,” Liss sighed, clearly disappointed and debating her next words carefully. “If she is so important to you, then you owe it to yourself to get some closure, for better or worse. You can’t keep feeling like this forever, and you can’t move on without certainty.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” He hung his head.

“And,” Liss continued tersely, “If you are as important to her as you should be, then she owes it to you as well.”

Alistair nodded.  Despite her sharp-edged words, it was nice to hear someone say it out loud.  “Listen, I’m so sorry for the-“

“Kiss?” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Don’t be.  It was a nice kiss, and it seems we both needed it.”

“I just thought that, well, you were so upset yesterday morning.  I figured I owed you an apology.”

“I was disappointed,” she explained matter-of-factly, “I’m still disappointed, but I care about you, and I want you to be happy more than anything else.”

Alistair had nothing to say in response to her.  He still felt immensely guilty for leading her to believe there was a possibility of more between them than friendship.  However, he hadn’t really known that there wasn’t himself. He cared for her, and he knew that in time he could love her as much as he loved Lucia.  But she wasn’t, nor would she ever be Lucia. He rode behind her in silence for the rest of the trip, hoping that their friendship would be salvageable.

They arrived at the royal palace as midday turned to evening, the sun’s rays a gentle backdrop to the the muted city activity.  Stable boys greeted them at the doors to take their horses, and they walked into the main entrance to the palace. As had become custom for them in the months that they had both lived in the castle, they stopped in the vestibule to say their good evenings. Alistair pulled Liss into a hesitant hug, which she accepted, wrapping her arms around him in response.

“Thank you for understanding,” he mumbled into her hair. “I hope we can still be friends, but I just… I have to see this through.”

“Of course we can,” she laughed, squeezing him more tightly, “I hope everything works out for you, Ali.  She’s one lucky girl.” With that, Liss reached up and placed a single kiss on his lips in farewell. 

A clatter of what sounded like breaking glass echoed through the room, and Alistair darted his head toward the source of the noise.  Standing near the door, and surrounded by a clutter of shattered flasks, was Lucia, a hand at her chest. Her blue eyes were wide and filled with tears. 

Alistair’s heart plunged into his stomach.


	4. You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucia had prepared for all of the possibilities, except for returning to Denerim to find Alistair in the arms of another woman. If she ever liked surprises, they are now ruined for her forever.

Seconds passed by in hours, or so it seemed to Lucia as she awaited Alistair’s return to Denerim.  Anora had stated that his trip was to be brief and that he should be back in the capital within a few days.  That conversation had taken place three days ago, though it felt as if three months had passed. She knew that she was being impatient and dramatic, pacing about and finding anything to keep herself busy, but the anxiety gnawed away at her insides and she thought she might go mad if she remained still for too long.  She made it 19 years without losing her mind, and she had no intention of starting now. 

Despite her commitment to being reasonable, her quarters looked anything but that of a reasonable person.  In the process of distracting herself during the wait, she had used every flask and ingredient she had to make potions, balms, and poultices.  Her room put the apothecary in town to shame. Although, as her supplies dwindled, she began to mix whatever she had left to create her own recipes.  Trying those concoctions was not recommended. In fact, she was certain that one was just elfroot juice. Lucia was not proud of what she had done, but it was better than the sinking anticipation that set in if she was idle for too long. 

She considered going to the kennels to visit Rune and Fang, but remembered that they were being washed and groomed, a chore she was happy to give to someone else.  Rune did not like baths and Fang liked them too much. With nothing left to do, she lay on her bed, back flat, counting the number of jagged bricks composing the ceiling.  A knock at the door startled her to her feet, and she rushed to open it, wondering if this time it would be Alistair. It wasn’t. 

Nathaniel’s eyes darted around the room uncomfortably as he entered, taking in the tables and dressers covered with flasks of bubbling liquid.  The look that he gave her seemed to ask “Are you serious?” in the most judgmental tone she could imagine. Lucia looked down at the floor, and shrugged sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said, the bite of sarcasm heavy in his voice, “I came to see if you’d like to go to the market, but it seems the market has already come to you.”

“I’m trying not to lose my mind waiting,” she answered, still looking at the ground and scuffing the toe of her boot against the stone. 

“Good job.” Another sarcastic remark. “This is completely normal.” 

“I’m fine,” Lucia insisted, moving to sit down on the edge of her bed with a huff and a sigh. She finally looked up to meet her friend’s eyes, filled with concern as they were,  “I’m just… used to moving away from my problems, not waiting for them to come greet me.” 

Nathaniel approached her,  placed his hands on her shoulders and shook lightly. “Problems always seem bigger from a distance.  This will be good for you one way or another.” 

“There is only one outcome I can see being good for me,” she argued, refusing to be talked down from her completely necessary worry.  

“Right, and if the other outcomes happen, then you’ll get to see me kick some arse.”

“Yes.  Violence,” Lucia said unenthusiastically, “That’ll fix things.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Smirking, he extended a hand toward her.  “Come on. We’re going to the market. You need some air.” 

“I could also probably stand to stock up on flasks.”  She took his hand and looked around the room quizzically as he pulled her up.  “I’d wager a solid half of these are not any good anyway.” 

Nathaniel just sighed.  

And so they had gone to the market, which made her feel somewhat better.  It was the return from the market that left her feeling like she might vomit.  

Lucia stood by the door, frozen, as the shattered remains of her shopping trip glittered at her feet.  “Tense” was not a strong enough word to describe the air in the room as she dealt with the kick in the stomach that had been seeing Alistair kissing and embracing another woman.  Try as she may to focus on anything other than the scene before her, she couldn’t. Her eyes darted to the beautiful woman with blonde hair and dark eyes who the man she loved held in his arms.  Well, the woman  _ had _ been in his arms when Lucia and Nathaniel entered.  Alistair promptly pushed her away when he’d heard the flasks break against the stone.  

The moment stretched on for an eternity, tension mounting as time passed.  Releasing a frustrated huff, Nathaniel spoke, breaking the silence that held them prisoner.  “Well, now all of your flasks are broken. I even offered to carry them for you, but no, you were worried that  _ I  _ would break them.”  His complaint went unacknowledged, but it eased the tension just enough that Alistair attempted to speak. 

“Lucia, I-” he began, stopping when she turned her head away from him. She looked at the ground in a vain attempt to hide the tears that burned in her eyes. 

“Oy,” the blonde woman sighed, her voice as light and lovely as Lucia would have imagined it to be, “This looks bad.”  At least she sounded genuinely apologetic. 

“Elissa?” Nathaniel examined the woman from beneath furrowed brows, a grin spreading across his face.  He stepped forward in front of Lucia, crunching some of the glass shards beneath his feet. 

“Nate,” the woman, who was apparently named Elissa, replied fondly, “Nate Howe?  It’s really you! It’s been years since I last saw you.” She rushed toward him and embraced him.  Either they knew one another, or this was just something she did. 

“I think it was... the last summer I visited before-”  His sentence trailed away not needing to be finished. 

“That was a lovely summer.” Elissa offered him a smile that seemed to hold some immense sadness back from the surface. 

“It was.”  Nathaniel nodded, frowning. “I’m so sorry about what my— what happened to your family.  I had no idea or-”

“It’s not your fault.”  Another sad smile. “I’m sorry about your family, too.”  

The conversation halted and the two looked from one another to Lucia and Alistair, having only just realized they were not the only two people in the room.

“I... think I should probably go and replace these flasks before the shop closes,” Nathaniel said, pointing a thumb to the door. 

“I’ll come with you.”  Elissa quite literally jumped at the chance to escape the awful atmosphere between Alistair and Lucia. “We can catch up!”   
Lucia figured that Elissa must have been one of the Couslands, the ruling family of Highever who Rendon Howe had murdered in their home.  Lucia wanted to pity her, but as she walked past to leave with Nathaniel, her pretty eyes met Lucia’s and the smell of her perfume filled the space between them.  The esteemed Hero of Ferelden was reduced to petty, shameful jealousy that was so far beneath her it was comical. Of all the possibilities she had considered, finding Alistair in torrid embrace with another woman was not one. It was an egregious exaggeration - the embrace was affectionate at best-  but Lucia didn’t care. 

Now, it seemed she could not even take Nathaniel up on his offer of violence.

Alistair watched as Liss left the room with the unfamiliar Warden, his eyes immediately snapping back to Lucia when the door closed.  Her gaze was sharp enough to draw blood, searching his face for answers he didn’t have. He hadn’t seen her in so long that he was grateful to be under such scrutiny. She was  at least twice as beautiful as he remembered: The fair skin and soft features that understated her ferocity, the dark hair, and those pale blue eyes, telling secrets she didn’t realize he could see. He had almost forgotten the subtle way her eyes changed when she looked at him, like he was the only person in the world.  

At the moment, he did know that being the only person in the world was such a great thing.  Her expression was flat and difficult to read, like she had withdrawn from him completely. He spent better part of their year earning her trust, showing her that she could open up to him.  He doubted she’d ever be able to trust him again. 

“I know you’re probably angry, but-” 

“I’m not,” she interrupted him with short, quick words that made him feel small. 

Alistair squinted. “Are you sure?  Is this one of those things where you say that you’re not feeling a certain way, when you’re actually feeling that way very strongly?  Because I really don’t think that this is the best time to do that.” He must have sounded as desperate as he felt.

“I’m not angry, Alistair.” Her composure was betrayed by the shaky breath that followed. 

“If you think I don’t know you better than that, you’re wrong.”  A bitter laugh accompanied the sigh that escaped him . “Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what,” she asked in a tone as sharp as her eyes. “Protect myself? Do what I’ve always done to get by and be okay?”

“Don’t hide how you feel,” Alistair answered, hoarse with emotion as tears began to burn in his eyes.  He moved forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. “If you’re angry with me, then be angry, but for the love of the Maker don’t pull away from me now.”

“Okay fine. I’m angry,” she admitted, with a sigh, “No.  I’m more than angry. I’m furious, and heartbroken, and just...so damn tired of losing people I care about. _ ”  _

_ “ _ I-” 

“And I hardly think you’re in any position to tell me not to pull away.” She swiped his hands from her shoulders and pushed him away from her. “You have no right to tell me what to do with my emotions, when you buried yours in another woman.” 

He wanted to protest, to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but the fact of the matter was that what he had done was  _ exactly  _ like that.

“It’s not like I meant for this to happen,” he said, not sure what else he could say that wasn’t a flat out denial. 

“I suppose kissing her by the door was an accident then?” Lucia crossed her arms. 

“To be fair, she kissed me.” It was a weak defense, one of which he was not proud.

”You certainly didn’t stop her.”  A sad smile flashed across her face before vanishing. “And besides, I know you well enough to know you don’t just casually kiss people.  This wasn’t the first time it happened.”

“No.” He tore his eyes away from her, afraid to see the pain his answer would cause. “It wasn’t.  It happened one other time.”

“Are you-,” she began, but choked on the question as her emotions finally seemed to be getting the better of her. Alistair forced himself to look at her.  He’d rarely seen Lucia cry, and the tears rolling down her face broke his heart. 

“Together?” He waited for her to nod before answering. “No.”

“Have you-“ She gestured with her hands, unable to push words through all of the emotion.

“Thought about it?” Alistair took a deep breath and considered his words carefully. “Yes- but Luce, you have to understand. When you left, my world fell apart. You only said goodbye because I caught you, in case you’ve forgotten. There was no ‘I’ll be back when I figure this out.’ Nothing.

“I met Elissa, and she is funny and kind and she made me, I don’t know...feel better, when most days I felt like dying.”

Alistair paused and waited for her to shout at him or run from the room, but she didn’t.  She let out a breath and looked at him, anger replaced by hollow sadness. 

“You know, I don’t really know what I expected, leaving like I did. “ She shook her head and brought her hands up to her shoulders as if to hug herself. Alistair resisted the impulse to reach out and comfort her, fearing she might shatter beneath his touch like the flasks on the ground. 

“I wanted you to have the space you needed, no matter how much it killed me. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

“I was just scared and selfish,” she argued, “I left when you needed me. I guess I forfeited any right I had to be angry at how you handled your grief.”

Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but the words were nowhere to be found yet again. 

“I am glad you had someone there for you when I wasn’t.” Her words sounded further away, even though she hadn’t moved.  “If she makes you happy, if she’s what you want, then-“

“No,” Alistair protested, nearly falling over himself as he rushed to her, unapologetically returning hands to her shoulders where they’d been earlier. He was no longer afraid she’d reject his touch or crumble beneath it. “She’s not what I want.” 

“There is some considerable evidence to the contrary,” Lucia remarked, raising her eyebrows. 

“Because I’m an idiot,” he sighed in defeat.  His hands slipped from her shoulders, tracing the length of her arms before settling at his side. “And I did something stupid because I was sad.”

“Alistair, you’re not an idiot.”

“Oh, but I am.” He laughed, though tears of his own had begun to fall. “I am a stupid, foolish man for thinking, even for a minute, that I could ever want anything but you.” 

“Oh,” Lucia said, blinking in surprise.  Even wet as they were from tears, it should have been impossible for her eyes to glisten like they did when she looked at him in that moment. 

“Being apart from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he continued, “And I never want to do it again.  Luce, you’re the-“

Before Alistair could finish his thought Lucia’s lips were against his in a kiss.  It was firm and decisive, but still so gentle his whole body ached in response. His heart leapt from his chest as he realized what was happening.  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a desperate embrace and deepening the kiss, hot tears mingling on their cheeks. 

When they finally came apart, Lucia eyed him affectionately as she wiped his tears away with her thumbs.  He quickly pulled her back against his chest, resting his chin on her head, worried that if he didn’t hold her tightly she might slip away.  He had no intention of letting her go. 

“Anyway... as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he stated suddenly after several minutes of silence, doing his best to sound offended. “ _ You’re _ the only person I want to kiss ever again.”

Lucia just sighed and laughed, her breath warm against him.  It was the best feeling in the world. 


	5. Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Epilogue...  
> Fate is a cruel mistress, but sometimes she is in a good mood. Nathaniel and Elissa catch up over cheap ale and bad music.

Evening settled on rooftops as the sounds of the bustling city began to fade into a quiet hum. Mothers ushered children inside, ignoring their pleas for “just a bit longer” to play.  Guards returned to their posts. Even the Market District hushed from its usual chaos, though shops remained open, candles and torches glowing behind windows. It was the peaceful side of Denerim only seen by those who lived within its walls.  

Not that Liss could appreciate the peace at the moment, not with the tumultuous storm of emotions that brewed beneath the surface.

She was an actual idiot, so much so she believed scholars pictured someone like her when they created the word.  She knew better than to allow infatuation to take hold of her, and now she was certain it would never let her go. Sure, she painted on her mature face, stepping out of the fray, tongue bleeding from the bite of words she was kind enough not to say, but that did not mean she was in any way  _ pleased _ by anything that had happened over the past few days.  

She had been prepared to deal with the aftermath of the ill-considered kiss she and Alistair shared.  In truth, she had expected his relationship to have been over and for him to return to her once he found the closure he needed.  Lucia’s sudden appearance changed everything. Liss wanted to hate her, but that wouldn’t have been fair considering they had never met.  

It was obvious that Alistair loved Lucia  in a way he could never love her. Even through his hurt and loneliness, affection and adoration beamed from eyes when he spoke of his fellow Warden.  When he saw Lucia standing in the doorway, shocked and betrayed, he pushed Liss away, hiding what they shared like a dirty little secret. Of course, Alistair wouldn’t have thought about the situation in that manner, and he would not have consciously treated Liss as if she were disposable.  She doubted he was thinking of her at all in that moment. Lucia was there, and nothing else mattered. Good to know where she stood, at least. 

Breathing deeply and drawing her attention back to the present, Liss offered a completely fake smile to Nate.  Her old friend’s brows dark brows pressed together, a worried crease forming between them. Though he said nothing, she suspected that he saw right through the cracked mask she donned. 

“Right, so,” she started, pulling her shoulders up into an uncomfortable shrug, “To the apothecary then?” 

“No,” said Nate, shaking his head and turning to walk in the complete opposite direction of the apothecary.

“But you said-”

“I know what I said,” he muttered gruffly as he trudged forward, stopping to turn and look at her when he realized she had not moved, “I thought our time might be better spent at the tavern.  I need a drink.”

“I need about seven.” She let out an exhausted laugh.  Nothing sounded better to her at the moment than the sweet, numbing bliss of intoxication. It wasn’t a particularly good decision, but then again none of her decisions had been particularly good the past few days. She saw no reason to change that now. 

“That can be arranged.” The corners of Nate’s mouth turned upward, an amused smile slipping past that grim facade he always tried to keep up. 

“The first time we’ve seen each other in years, and you’re already trying to get me drunk?” It was her turn to be amused.

“No. I’m trying to get  _ me  _ drunk,” he remarked smugly, “I just thought you’d be offended if I didn’t at least offer.”

She contemplated for a moment and shrugged. ”You thought right, then.” She moved forward to loop her arm through his, causing a bewildered glance and an eyroll that pretended to be more annoyed than it was. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Prior to the past year’s betrayal, the Howes and Couslands had been close friends, with a staunch alliance reputed throughout Ferelden.  Some of Liss’ earliest memories involved playing with the Howe brood. Nathaniel, in particular, spent much of his summers in Highever until he came of age, and was sent away to Starkhaven to be squired to a Knight there.  Mischievous and taciturn, Nate had never been one to obey his father’s harsh rules and Rendon was more than eager to be rid of the boy, favoring his youngest son. In her youth, Liss spent much of her year waiting for his visits, basking in the presence of a friend who was not her older brother.  Looking back, she could see how sad Nate had been, and wondered just exactly how affected he was by his father’s blatant favoritism. 

Upon entering the tavern, a cacophony of raucous laughter, slurred shouting, and clumsily plucked lute strings filled her ears, and surrounded her with a warmth that would have been more pleasant were it not for the smell that accompanied it.  Still, a tavern was a tavern, and it was better than the apothecary or the palace. She and Nate took a seat at a table in the back corner, told the barmaid what they wanted, and waited.

An uncomfortable, heavy silence filled the space between them, overpowering the noise from the other patrons. Liss stared at the table intently, as if she were attempting to count the ridges in the wood.  Nate’s gaze burned into the side of her face, awaiting an explanation. She welcomed the barmaid’s return with two large tankards, filled to the brim. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened,” Nate asked when the maid left, his tone gentler than she would have expected, “Or should I assume that this is like the last time you ended up in the middle of a relationship?”

“You remember that?” She looked up at him abruptly, slapping a hand against the table causing some of the ale to splash out of the tankards.

Nathaniel smirked and took a drink. “I remember a lot of things, like that time that you started a fist fight with Fergus over a woman who was already betrothed.”

“I  _ won  _ that fight,” Liss argued after taking a long drink, “And in my defense, I loved Anora well before he did.”

“Of course.” Another smug smirk. Liss wanted to smack it off his face. 

“You can’t tell her, Nathaniel.”

“I’ve known for years and I’ve never said a word.  Why would I tell her now?”

“Just for the laughs, knowing you.” She scowled and took another drink.  It was a potent brew, as it was already working on her, loosening up the knots in her stomach and making it easier to breathe.  

Nate laughed briefly and shrugged before looking down at his drink in contemplation.  He traced the handle with his thumb as he held it. For as long a Liss had known him, he had always worn a morose expression, but this one was different somehow, though she couldn’t say why.   They sat in silence for more than a few minutes, drinking and listening to the minstrel attempt a song way out of his vocal range. 

“Seriously, Liss,” Nate spoke again, setting down his now empty tankard.  His eyes darted up to meet hers. “How did you manage to fall in love with a taken man? ”

“I’m not in love with him,” she lied, earning her a skeptical eyebrow from Nate. 

“Okay, okay. I love him,  _ a little, _ ” she lied again. Nate continued to eye her knowingly, impossible to deceive as ever. Or perhaps she was simply a bad liar. 

“Fine!” Liss threw her hands up in exasperation. “I love him so much that I can’t help but curse the Maker for letting her meet him first! You happy? ” 

“No,” Nate answered bluntly, “I’m not any happier with this situation than you are.  I just wanted you to be honest with yourself.” 

“Honest about what exactly?”

“I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve seen you be heartbroken enough to know that you always find some way to blame yourself so that you can pretend you’re happy with the way things worked out.”

“This was my fault, Nate.” She smiled, forcing the tears back from the brim. “I knew he still loved her. It was a mistake.”

“So it‘s a mistake to love someone?” Nate leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Yes.” She laughed at her own bitterness, finishing off the last bit of ale in her tankard and slamming it proudly against the table. “Are you suggesting that falling in love with someone who doesn’t love you back is a good thing?”

“I’m suggesting that it’s not your fault.” He leaned forward, his voice still calm, but with an edge of agitation wavering underneath. “We don’t get to choose who we fall in love with. ”

He looked at her intensely, searching her face for some reaction, though she had no idea why.  It was as if he were no longer speaking only about her. He had mentioned that he did not like the situation anymore than she did, but what had he meant? Did he love someone who didn’t love him back? After minutes of puzzling with the thoughts, it hit her.

“You’re in love with Lucia, aren’t you?” 

“What?” He flinched. 

“You two were together when you found Alistair and I at the palace,” she explained making emphatic gestures with her hands, “And with all the stuff you’ve been saying, it only makes sense.” 

The way he looked at her, he might as well have well called her an idiot and left the tavern. She didn’t think it was the dumbest conclusion she has ever drawn, but he apparently disagreed. She waved the barmaid over and ordered more drinks.  She was not nearly drunk enough to cope with the sting of embarrassment at her own comment. This day just kept getting  _ better.  _

Liss’ assumption baffled Nathaniel.  The woman outsmarted every scholar her parents ever hired to tutor her, learned to map battles and target opponent weaknesses before she could lift a sword, and was adept in politics and governance.  She could have convinced statues to move if she so chose, and was never left without a witty remark. Yet, there she was directly across from him as he spoke of unrequited love and broken hearts, completely oblivious to the fact that he loved her. 

He had loved her for as long as he could remember, though he’d never said as much .  While  there had never been any formal arrangements that he knew of, his father made it clear to him that Thomas was the first priority.  If anyone was to court the daughter of Bryce Cousland, it would not be Nathaniel. As little as he had cared for his father’s plans, he did not want to risk being forbidden to see her at all, so he kept his feelings a secret.  His visits to Highever had been more than worth the pain in his chest whenever he watched Liss fall in and out of love with other people. He had been content to be her friend no matter how much it hurt. 

He left for Starkhaven when he was eighteen, and hoped that his time away would have dealt with those lingering feelings, and it did, at least for the time he was  _ in  _ Starkhaven.  His return to Ferelden and news of what his father had done to the Couslands caused those feelings to reappear in full force.  Anger overwhelmed him at the thought of Elissa’s death at the hands of Howe men. When he learned that she and her brother had survived, it had given him at least some peace of mind.  Still, as a Grey Warden, he never expected to see her again. He certainly never expected to see her when he demanded that Lucia sort out  _ her _ relationship.  Walking in to Liss, yet again in the arms of someone who could not love her as she deserved— as he did —had been a punch to the gut. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like. 

Now he was free to tell her how he felt, and he couldn’t. Not only would it be completely taking advantage of her vulnerability, but it also threatened to damage a lifelong friendship if she reacted negatively.  It was not a risk he was willing to take, not yet. So he resigned himself to slipping less-than-subtle hints into conversation, causing Liss believed him to be in love with Lucia instead. 

“Are you going to tell me how wrong I am, or are you going to continue to look at me like I’m an idiot?”  Liss held the newly filled drink to her lips. “Either is fine, but I prefer to be prepared.”    
  
“I’m not looking at you like you’re an idiot,” he replied, but began to question what his facial expression actually looked like.  It was hard to tell.    
  
“If this isn’t a ‘Liss is an idiot’ face.”  She contorted her features, pressing her brows together and scowling. “Then I don’t know what is.” 

“Is that what my face looks like,” he asked, “No wonder people avoid me.” 

“It’s not exact.  You have a better nose.”  Liss pointed to her own small, perfectly shaped nose with a tip that pointed upward. 

“I’ll take your word for it.”  He took a drink before continuing, hoping it would give him time to plan his words carefully. “Regardless of how my face looks, I don’t think you’re an idiot, at least not this time. You’re just wrong.” 

Liss leaned in closer to him, squinting her big brown eyes and scanning him skeptically. Every movement and expression she made was dramatic, exaggerated by the ale.  The subtle flush of her cheeks, dotted with light brown freckles was even more noticeable from a closer distance, as was the length of her eyelashes, the gentle curve of her lips, and the scent of lavender in her red-blonde hair. There was nothing about her that was not beautiful.  It took a considerable amount of effort on Nathaniel’s part to keep his breath from hitching, and to ensure that his eyes didn’t linger in any one place too long. 

“What,” he asked, trying to sound annoyed at her scrutiny, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I thought maybe if I stared long enough you’d crack and tell me about this mad woman who doesn’t love you back, so I can kick her arse.” She leaned back  in her seat and looked at him, frowning. “I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t love you, Nate.”

Nathaniel laughed bitterly.  The irony in Liss’ words stung, like some cruel joke the Maker decided to play on him.  

“Well, now I can’t tell you,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t see the pain behind his smile.

“Oh come on!” 

“I can’t. I have to protect her arse from your foot.”  

“Why would you want to protect her if she’s hurting you?” Liss seemed genuinely confused, rather than playful. 

“Only selfish men wish harm to those they can’t have,” he said more forcefully than he intended, ”That’s not love. It’s possession.”

“Oh.” Liss’ eyes lingered on him intently, hanging on every word.

“I love her, and I want her to be happy, even if that means watching her love someone else.”

“That is…” She continued to eye him curiously, seeming to have trouble finding words, which was particularly unusual for her. “Very noble of you.”

“Yeah? Well, it is the only thing noble about me, so don’t get too sentimental.” 

“Of course, you no-good, common rabble, you,” Liss quipped, punching him lightly on the arm before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek.  

It was a gesture she had done many times before, and each time it caused Nathaniel’s heart to pound against his chest and the blood to rush to his head.  It was akin to the thrill of battle, but softer, less terrifying. This time, however, it was different. Instead of kissing him briefly and moving along to her next topic of interest, her lips lingered.  He turned to look at her, their faces inches apart. They stared into one another’s eyes for what felt like an eternity. 

It took every ounce of strength and self-control in him to not do what he so desperately wanted to do.  It would have been so easy to kiss her, to take her in his arms and finally tell her everything. But with her heart so newly broken and in the middle of a filthy tavern, it was neither the time nor the place.  He tore himself away from her in one sharp, clumsy movement, watching as she frowned and looked away uncomfortably. He knew it was the right thing to do, but he hated himself for it all the same. 

“We should probably head back.” Nathaniel cleared his throat and motioned toward the door. “I figure it’s safe now.”

“Yes! We should,” Liss responded quickly, clearly relieved he made the suggestion.  She hopped up and headed toward the door, but stopped abruptly and turned to look at him, an affectionate smile appearing on her lips, “Thank you for this, by the way.  It helped.” 

“Good,” he said, and followed after her. 

In the back of Nathaniel’s mind he wondered how Lucia fared in her less than ideal reunion with Alistair and hoped that all was well for his friend.  Even if she wasn’t all right, he couldn’t count this trip as a waste now. He did not know if anything would come of his moment with Elissa, nor did he care.  He meant what he said with his contentedness by simply being her friend. Seeing her and talking made the world seem right again. It was the best feeling in the world. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so very much enjoyed writing Nathaniel and Elissa that I plan on starting a series/work focusing on them, so if this was just enough to whet your appetite and make you angry, then stay tuned. ;D
> 
> Quick note about some changes I made re: Nathaniel, just in case anyone is particularly in-the-know about Nathaniel's demographics. Canonically, Nathaniel is approximately 30 during the events of Awakening, and he had just returned from a 10-year bout as a squire to a Knight in Starkhaven. I wanted him to be close enough in age to Elissa that them being childhood friends made sense, but I also did not want Elissa to be a lot older than Alistair, so I fudged Nate's age. In my own personal canon, Nathaniel is 25 and he left for Starkhaven when he was 18 rather than 20, only spending 7 years away.


End file.
